Fight Club
by TdotJW
Summary: Altair Ibn-La'Ahad  had never been more interested in a man than he was with the one that came into his fight club, demanding Altair face him in a fight.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! So, I'm new to writing Fanfiction, (Wrote one story before) and especially new to Assassin's Creed fanfic :) -_cough_ especially men on men relationships _cough- _**

**But I love Altair/Malik so I decided to try it out :D - please give me a try, don't be too harsh ! **

**...yes, expect there to be spelling/gamar issues, (SORRY) it's late, I'm tired and.. not a very good editor -_-**

**BUT please enjoy the best you can ! **

**I got the story IDEA from one of my favorite movies _Fight Club_. It's not based on that movie, though, unfortanetly. **

**SO, anyway, please read and review? **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Assassin's creed, Altair or Malik. But I'll accept any them as a gift any day? ;)**

* * *

A tall, well-built man swung a key in his left hand carelessly as he traveled down long pavement stairs to a single metal door. There were Atleast twenty young men around the ages 23 to 35 following behind like wolf's trailing after their pack leader.

The leading man wore a simple white hoody that covered his face completely in the shadows of the small stairway, and baggy black jeans. He wasn't the largest in the group, which made one assume he was either the smartest or the toughest of them. The sizes of the men variety. Some were lanky, some heavy. Some muscular, some scrawny. But all came for one reason.

The leader used the key he was carrying to unlock the beaten up metal door. Opening the door and stepping in, he had to hold back a cringe at the smell. It wasn't exactly the best 4 star hotel, but it always worked for them. Wasn't like they were planning on sleeping in here, anyway… Atleast those who had a choice in the matter.

The room was cold, and as dark as hell. The man walked into the room, in the centre was a single string hanging from the roof-which anyone but him wouldn't have known the exact location of in the darkness. Tugging it, a small _click_ sounded in the room, a light illuminating the area.

It was large, real large. Has to be, too, otherwise it'd have no use to them. The ground was a smile grey pavement that hurt a hole fuck of a lot when slammed against, as most men around him knew all too well. There were no windows. No, they were too far underground for there to be any kind of window. They needed to be, to keep the sound away from people who could possible hear them. The smell was bloody awful too, but kept you awake as it got late in the night- not that you'd need help with that. And if you did, the cold worked well as an adrenaline booster.

It wasn't fancy, comfy, clean, warm and it sure as hell wasn't their home. But the men gathered here any way. It gave them purpose.

"So," One of the larger men piped up, rubbing his arms to keep them warm. A futile effort, if you asked him, your arms would only feel colder as you let go of them. "Altair, who's going to fight first?"

The question was directed at him, he knew- for he was the only one named such- but he ignored the brute anyway, walking around the area. He stopped his pacing, and gave a short glare to the group staring at him.

Automatically, the men straightened up to a line. Altair smirked, pulling the hood of his head. He had these boys whipped- and he knew it.

"Who's going to start the fight?" He pondered out loud to the silent group of muscles in front of him. "Well. We have a rule in this…" He paused to find the right word. "_club_. And seeing as though last time I counted about… I don't know, _fifteen?_" His eyes searched the group of now roughly twenty that stood before him. "That means: there are some new kids here this week." He snapped his golden eyes purposely at a nooby, who shrunk with fright. "And we all know what the newbie's have to do, right boys?"

"Newbie's fight first." An automatic response. Nice.

Altair said no more. He wasn't one to talk unless it was completely necessary - or if he deemed it so. He turned, grabbing a single worn wooden chair and sunk into it. Finding a relaxing position with his head leaning against the back of it. And he watched.

He watched as the experienced men weeded out the newbie's, forcing an eager bulky, shorter one to fight a slightly nervous tall and lanky one.

He decided to do this when he quit the company. This, meaning fight. Don't get him wrong. It wasn't like all they did was come down to a smelly, cold, dirty room so that smelly dirty men can smash their fists against each other. Well, sort of… but no. He created this club, _Fight Club. _Yes, they did fight, but people like them needed it. It calmed them, took out the stiffness when they went home to their wives, took out the bite when they scolded their children. It was a needed necessity in the average human life. Human's were made with an urge to cause violence. This club was a way to satisfy those urges.

At first, he only started it for himself. His job in _The Company_ was nothing more than… _assassinating_ people. And when 5 years of your life is spent killing people, fighting, murdering… you can't just go back to a normal life. He had started getting into fights more and more. It didn't even matter where he was; job interview, bar, strip house, bathroom, grocery store. He just couldn't get the urge out of his system. The urge to cause _pain._ And thus, the club was born. It started out with only a few people with a share of aggressiveness and a bond of secrecy. Secrecy that didn't last very long. Altair was surprised to find how many people starting showing up each week, how many people shared the same burden as he did. And as more people started showing up every week - he started fight less.

He still fought, otherwise there'd be no point in even doing this every week. But, being the head of everything, the boss. It made people more afraid to challenge him. He would either have to challenge someone himself or wait till one of the idiotic newbie's tried to take his spot as boss.

He was the leader for a _fucking _reason. The idiots.

But, there was always one. One brave enough, or stupid enough or maybe just had enough confidence in their skills to challenge him.

Like tonight.

* * *

The night was dragging on, and Altair wondered if the sun was coming up in the surface. Rubbing his face, he pondered on the newbie's.

There was quite a few interesting ones. One was a brute whom beat his opponent in a matter of 2 minutes. A short amount of time in this club. But, that was to be expected of a brute his size, nothing special. The other one was surprisingly small. Not so that you'd claim him to be, but his build was slightly smaller than Altair's own. He was darkly tanned, but wasn't black, so Altair guessed he was probably Mexican or maybe even Arabic, like Altair himself.

What interested Altair about the man was the way he fought. Most would fight with force, no real style or skill, just an aim to hit their opponents with as much strength as they could. But, this man moved with skill that no doubt was from experience. He dodged easily and moved swiftly and silently. Much like how Altair was trained back in The Company.

What interested Altair _even more_ of the man was when he brought himself out in the circle, crossing it so that he was right in front of Altair, and boldly stated,

"Fight me."

* * *

**SO did you enjoy? hope so, **

**cause another chappy will be coming very soon! hold on tight for this story! :)**

**Uhm, on an after thought, if anyone does read this story - I'll play the game:**

**"What was your favorite line?" **

**PLEASE REVIEW! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! :)**

**So, since last night i wrote the second chapter as well, i decided to post it too!**

**Yes, there will be many errors, (IM SORRY, REALLY!) but I'm truly horrible at editing -_-**

**So, this story as you can tell is in the modern format. It will not likely have much to do with the games plot. **

**_The Company_ is something I created as an Assassin's organization. (It is NON-exsitant. But you knew that ;) **

**Please Read and Review ! **

**DICLAIMER: I don't own Assassin's Creed, Malik or Altair. But, I'll have an AltMal to go, please?**

* * *

Some chuckled, Some scoffed. But, most stayed silent, waiting for the choice of words their club leader would utter.

Altair smirked. Most of the time, when challenged, it was by some over grown monkey- whom foolishly thought they had a chance against Altair because of the size difference. This man, he was different. He was quick, swift, _deadly_. Possibly on par with Altair himself. This man was a _challenge. _

All his life, Altair has never had much of a challenge. Ever. Not when he was a little boy kicking the bully at school's ass, or in any high school brawl he got bitch talked into. Not in _The Company_ either. He was the best, in all ages. He brought in the most number of kills every time. He could single handedly defeat any of the other _assassin's _they had there.

So, in the rare opportunity that Altair thought maybe he'd have a hard time, a challenge; He was positively giddy.

Smirking at the others serious face before him, Altair stood, silently agreeing to the match.

Automatically the room tensed. Eyes of every color staring intently at the two men whom started taking fighting positions. Not everyday did they get to watch Altair fight. Usually, if he did, he'd only done it so he could be the crap out of some unlucky sap he'd challenged. Not many had the guts to challenge him. _Especially _after seeing said brutal fight against a poor sap.

"You sure you wanna go through with this?" He offered one last chance to back out. Dishonestly, though. He knew the other wasn't scared, he wouldn't back down. Altair simply wanted to tease the man. His expression was so serious.

The man scoffed, annoyed. "Maybe after this your ego will drop a few _much unneeded_ notches." The man huffed. Altair's smirked widened. Atleast he had some kind of expression now, even if it was annoyance .

"As you wish," Altair muttered, taking his standard fight stance. One of the bulky ones clear his throat, and Altair shot him a look knowing the idiot was about to recite the rules _Altair wrote._ The brute snapped his mouth shut for a second. Opening it again to say:

"Start."

The darkly tanned man automatically started circling him like a lion circling it's pray. Altair followed in line, refusing to stand centre of the man's play. The circled each other for a few seconds, glaring at each other before the darker tanned man lunged. Altair dodged the uppercut aimed for his chin to the side. Spinning on the ball of his foot, Altair swung himself back around, fist aiming for the soft part of the gut. The tanned man managed to dodge slightly so that Altair's punch hit his side. Wincing, the man drew back. Only to come back twice as fast and catch Altair in the check bone. Altair staggered back for a millisecond before he rebounded. He growled slightly, giving a few quick punches to the man's face and chest.

They continued on for the longest time Altair's ever been in a fight. He'd lost track of time a long time ago and could only assume it was sometime in the early morning - for in the middle of the fight it seemed many of the men started to leave, signally Altair that they needed to either go to work or get back to their house before their family noticed.

Soon enough, it was only Altair and the dark tanned man left in the room. Both gasping and wheezing in exhaustion. Altair was getting restless. This man had too much energy for his own good. His mind started to wander slightly.

How did this man become so good? He moved as swiftly, silently as Altair did. And Altair was trained practically his whole life to become how good he was now. Altair had to wonder; who exactly was this man? Where did he come from?

Literally knocked out of his thoughts by a punch to his temple, Altair staggered back to reality. The man in front of him looked slightly more tired than Altair felt. He could use that to his advantage, but he wanted nothing more than this fight to come to an end soon. His limbs were screaming from the cold and harsh treatment they've been getting.

Finally taking notice of the mans features, Altair silently decided he was Arab. His skin was a darker shade than Altair's. His hair and eyes a dark scolding brown. He had scruffy hair, as though he didn't care much for how it looked. And a small patch of facial hair at the bottom of his chin. And for his smaller size, he packed a lot of muscles on his body, Altair discovered.

Shaking his head out of his daze, Altair focused more on the task at hand.

Both men were considerably slowly than when they first started. They were both bouncing on the balls of their feet and giving each other light punches here and there. Deciding to end it, Altair wound his fist back - ready to put all his energy into one last hit. He smirked as he saw the man mimic his actions.

It'd come down to one last blow. One last use of strength to determine the winner. Altair's smirk never let up as he drove his fist forward, receiving one coming at his face in return.

* * *

Altair sighed, leaning against the far wall in the basement room. He rubbed his swore check, turning to glare at the unconscious man beside him.

_I won._ Altair silently declared. The man next to him gave him a pretty blow that came close to knocking him out, but in the end, Altair's punch had been the one to be superior.

Altair couldn't stop the inflation of his ego. Finally, he'd met someone worth fighting. Someone on par. And he'd beat them. Smiling, Altair rested his head against the cold pavement wall. He was exhausted. Slowly his eyes started to drift shut.

His eyelids flew up, however, when a loud groan sounded next to him. Turning, he saw the darker man come to his senses. Suddenly feeling wide awake, Altair eagerly awaited to see the man's reaction.

"What the hell happened?" The man groaned, bringing his hand to the swore part of his head.

"You were knocked unconscious." Altair answered. As is suddenly realizing he was there, the man shifted away from Altair in surprise.

"I lost?" He breathed. Altair smirked. Seems as though this man wasn't used to loosing either. "Oh, wipe that smirk off your face. Obviously you had a lucky last shot." The man snapped at him. Altair's smirk widened, and the man huffed in annoyance.

"What's your name?" Altair couldn't help but ask. The darker man looked at him in surprise for a moment before he drew his lip in a straight line. Obviously choosing whether or not he should say anything personal about himself.

"Malik." The man sighed finally. "Malik A-Sayf." Altair mentally agreed that he was an Arab.

Silence ensured.

Finally, Malik broke the silence. "So?" He huffed in annoyance. Altair raised a brow at him. "Oh, come on. You can't really ask someone their name without stating yours." Malik glared.

Altair's scared lips drew an impossibly thin line. What Malik had said was true. He owed him his name. Inwardly groaning, Altair muttered, "Altair."

More silence.

"That your only name? You don't have a last name?" Malik was obviously now amused by the man's stubbornness.

Gritting his teeth, Altair grounded out "Altair Al-Ahad."

Malik raised a brow at the last names meaning, but didn't question it.

Curiosity dug at Altair and finally, he muttered out "How'd you find this club?"

Malik blinked, turning to Altair as he stated "Not quite sure myself actually. My younger brother just kept talking about a hidden club, but since he wasn't of age he forced me to check it out."

Altair nodded, despite being confused. How would one young enough to not be of age know of this club? Speaking of ages, Altair wondered what exact age the man beside him was. He didn't look much different than Altair himself. Perhaps a year or two older.

Following Altair's confused gaze, Malik continued, "My brothers only 20. I'm 24." He explained Altair's silent question. Ah, So he was a year older than himself.

Altair nodded, "I see, I myself am only 23."

Malik seemed slightly surprised. "Funny that one so young created a fight club with members only able to be older than him." He snorted. Altair glared.

Yes, he didn't want to see ones younger than him beaten to a bloody pulp. Sorry he was one bit considerate for once in his life.

Both men lay there in silence for a few more moments.

"Listen. It's bloody cold. And it smells like shit." Malik huffed as he started to get up. "How about we get out of this room?" He suggested. Malik checked his watch, "Besides. You're the one that knocked me unconscious, I think you owe me lunch at the least." Smirking, Malik started for the door.

Altair blinked. _What a strange man, _He thought to himself as he got up to follow the tanned man out the door.

* * *

**Sorry that this one was so short...**

**I'm planning on making the other chapters longer, I swear! **

**Thank you to Sodafly! My one review that made me smile this morning. **

**Thanks for your encouraging praise :D and yess, i happened to have liked that line the most as well ;) **

**So, for those of you whom read this, I think I want to play that game again, if you don't mind? **

**"What was your favorite line?" :D**

**Read and Review please!**


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